#buns.w

[magnusbae]

I am a little obsessed with Dream being an "unwilling" but "helpless" "victim" of Hob's affections and love.

He's so guardless to it.

He always was to love.

That's why he keeps getting hurt.

It's a helpless sort of "Please don't hurt me" because he will give his heart away, again and again. And it'll be hurt, over and over.

And when Hob doesn't hurt him it's such an...overwhelming feeling of devotion. I'll end the world for you. I'll create a world for you. I'll— Hob stops him then, with a fond kiss and fonder warmth in his eye.

"Anyone ever told you," Hob starts, pulling Dream over "that you've got the flair for the theatrics?" there's laughing lines around his eyes but he doesn't laugh out loud.

Instead he leans and kisses Dream's cheek, then nuzzles just beneath his ear.

"I don't want you to pay for me loving you," there's a pause "You big, darling idiot" his hand sneaks around Dream's middle and pulls him into a hug, tight and firm. "I just love you, you'll have to accept that".

And Dream, Dream doesn't know what to do with that. He doesn't know what to do when nothing is needed, asked of him, demanded.

When someone actually returns his feelings tenderly and doesn't (yet) (there's always the fear of yet) rejects him and his affections.

"I." he begins, and stops. He doesn't have anything to say.

And for now, perhaps, it's okay.

Hob's hold is firm and sure, it's warm and good.

He relaxes him, muttering softly.

"You dare call me an idiot?"

"A darling idiot." Hob murmurs back.

#is it a rant? is it a hc post? is it writing? #is it all smashed together without regard to being proper #who knows #i just needed to pass a VIBE #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #dream #hob #buns.w #buns.hc #buns.all

[magnusbae]

Dreamling - Comfort given freely - 691w

Dream has a hard time accepting all the succor he had received from Hob since his return in 2020.

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"Why?” Dream asks.

“I knew you needed it” Hob smiles at him “and I could give it, so what’s the harm in that?”

Dream averts his eyes, pride and hurt fighting inside of him. He does not wish to be so, he wishes not to be depended on anyone’s pity, on anyone’s scrapes of empathy— but oh stars, how he does need it, how much the empty spaces of the fabric of his soul crave it, want it.

He cannot face this man, cannot look him in the eyes and let him know that he had won. Won where others did not. Many had gained his affections, some had gained his love, but Hob....Hob had won his trust. He had won his trust and he had won him over.

He has the power over him, one of the Endless.

Something that should not be, shouldn't have happened.

“Morpheus?” Hob asks, a short silence, and closer “Dream” he says, gentle, gentle as if talking to a wounded thing, a hurt thing.

Is there no end to this man’s pity? 

Dream’s insides twists, for he knows that Hob is honest, and that Hob is true. He knows that he means it, means this care of his. Dream wonders if he should leave, if he was mistaken for questioning it. Perhaps he should accept it, allow his pride some rest. And yet—

“I love you.” Hob says.

Dream looks up, sharp, alert. 

“What?” he says, though he had heard him quite well. 

“I love you.” Hob says with a shrug, kind eyes looking sad “You don’t need to think so hard about it, there’s nothing to it other than that, I love you, I love you and I’d do anything for you” Hob finds his eyes, and smiles again, there's a deeply rooted fondness in that look.

For a moment, Dream's shadow distorts, the lights in the room flickering. He notices that as he notices the heat in his chest, at his neck, on his face. This body of his, this image he presents to the world, should not do things he does not choose to show.

Words that are his to command, that come so easily to him at most days, are lost to him now as he opens his mouth and no sound comes out in response to Hob's confession.

Love. He knows love. Bright and passionate, strong and wild, worlds consumed, galaxies worth of feelings— love is not this, not the calm patience of a friend, not the endless devotion, not the... soothing safety he feels in Hob's presence.

“You confuse.” Dream answers at last.

“No I don’t” Hob’s light reply comes without a hint of argument.

“Hob Gadling, you—”

“—love you?” Hob completes, this time smiling. 

Annoyance ignites whitin Dream, the heat on his face deepening. 

“Do not mock me.” he starts, voice raising a fraction, deepening a bit. He will not allow this. He will not stand here as a mere human makes mockery of—

“Dream, I don’t.” Hob reaches a hand— hesitates only a second— and takes a hold of Dream’s tense hand. “It’s okay if you don’t, I don’t expect you to, but this..” he presses their joint hands across his own chest “...is how I feel. I’d do crazier things for you than just care for you, " he stops as if he swallowed one last word, looking mildly bashful but with an unashamed smile on his lips. “tis just how it is” he says and squeezes Dream’s hand firmer against his chest.

Dream can feel the quick rhythm of his heart, can feel the roughness of his hand, can sense the human warmth of him— he can feel his love.

"I...understand." he says, and this is not true, he does not.

He does not understand this form of love. Does not know how to experience nor how to express it. Yet he finds himself wishing for it. Finds himself wanting not for the scorching heat of a dying star but for the soothing tranquility of a spring lake. Something calm, something without waves to drown him under. Something...safe.

Something that might just be Hob Gadling.

#I found this thing from back in november‚ to the most part I left it unedited however I did add a bit to it :) #Dream's type of love is very... hectic. He had great and full of turmoil romances. Makes sense he'd miss out a different type. #Dreamling #Dreamling fic #The sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream #hob #buns.w #buns.all #I need to be asleep actually lmao so I don't have time for a final re-read hope y'all feel the softness though~ Hob's unconditional love!

[magnusbae]

If you're interested, here's a prompt from the ones who just shared:

"Then why did you do it?" "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!"

No rush hehe I hope you get rest and have fun writing this!

Now, see, I could have taken this as an open prompt and went with something else, but I know you like dreamling and so I was good.

Thanks for the prompt dear! 💖 Also special thanks goes to @cuubism for actually going through it 🌻🌻🌻 any mistakes are me ignoring her wisdom or straight up forgetting to edit it. one of the two.

Dreamling - some flavor of hurt/comfort(?) 'you dare?' kind of situation going on there, 1,394w

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“I cannot fathom why—” 

Dream halts mid-sentence, his outrage rendering him speechless for a precious moment in which Hob tries, fruitlessly, to come up with a way to placate him, to explain in a way that will somehow pass as acceptable to Dream. The betrayal is tangible in the air, so charged that Hob’s hair actually stands on end as if from static. It feels like standing at your front door, still safe but seeing the hurricane on the horizon, knowing that this false safety can and will change in moments. Hob cannot think of a single thing. 

“You.” Dream grits his teeth so tightly that they scrape loudly, the sound of it making Hob’s own teeth ache uncomfortably. “Know.” Dream says each word as if it takes a great burden to even use human speech and not simply burn a hole in Hob’s mind. Given Dream’s past record, which Hob had recently learnt of, perhaps it does. “You know I do not ask.”

“I know.” Hob winces.

There’s no denying that he knew. Knew full well that asking Dream’s sibling for help was a guaranteed way to not only outrage him, but also land Hob a very creative punishment and the end of their long friendship.

He knew that, and did it anyway. 

Would again, if he had to.

He will not apologize for that.

Dream seems to come to the same conclusion, cheeks reddening in a surprising display of humanity, of lack of control over his appearance. The darkness that creeps into his eyes is distinctly not human. Hob shudders but fixes his eyes on Dream’s, refusing to avert his eyes like a reprimanded youth. He did what he did, and he’s not sorry.

''Then.” To Hob’s surprise, Dream seems to level himself, to school the darkness out of his eyes and ask with a calm that is somehow more unnerving than his rage. “Why did you do it?" There is a finality to this question, like a judge asking for one last confession to tip the scale one way or another. There will be judgment at the end of it, Hob knows. 

“Because…” he sucks in a breath, there’s a ball of nerves in his stomach and frustration, surprising him with its intensity, it feels almost like anger.

Why is he here, searching for excuses for something he believes in wholeheartedly? He doesn’t want to learn firsthand of Dream’s notorious pettiness but he’s not here to play these sort of games. 

The outraged huff is stuck in his throat— he didn’t even realize he had raised his voice this much, not until the ring of it strains his ears. He is practically shouting. And he doesn’t care. 

 ''BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.''

There’s anger in it, frustration, a measure of desperation.

“I bloody love you more than I fear you, that’s why.” His own cheeks burn, itch, tingle with the indignation of it all. “Because I’m a besotted fool who would make a pact with the devil if I had to, if it meant helping you.” He gestures curtly at Dream, then spreads his arm in an exaggerated motion of question. “Why else? Seriously, why else?!” He stops at that, breathing harshly. This is not how he had imagined, not even close. Fuck it. And fuck Lucifer, too. And Dream’s all too pleased sibling, on top.

Through his outburst Hob had stopped paying attention to Dream’s face, only his eyes, latching onto them as if they were his anchor in this universe, the only constant thing, in life, in this.

When he finally looks, really looks, he realizes with a start that Dream’s cheeks are no longer red with anger, that his eyebrows are not as tightly knitted, that his pale lips form a small and lax ‘o’. 

His friend looks taken aback, pacified and…surprised.

Like he couldn’t fathom this being the reason for Hob’s supposed betrayal of trust. Like this was the last rationale he had expected to hear, like he, an Endless being of incomprehensible wisdom, is unable to conceive this simple truth. Like he’s at a loss now.

Like he’s a bloody idiot. Hob shakes his head in amazement, his own anger evaporating as quickly as it came. Yet again he wonders how it is possible to be all knowing and yet so blind, so oblivious to such a simple truth, one Hob didn’t even try too hard to hide, really.

“I know you didn’t want me to,” he softens his voice, speaking more quietly “but I really didn’t have a choice. If I could do this on my own, you know I would have, I’d do worse for you.” He smiles at Dream, he doesn’t even try to sound self-deprecating, it’s the honest truth. He would.

His hand drops by his side and he awaits then, for his judgment.

“You love, me?”

Hob doesn't know how to respond to such a simple question other than–

“I do.”

There’s nothing else to add to that, he said it all, he did it all, even Dream must understand this is no passing fancy. One does not risk their immortal soul for something insignificant. Especially not Hob. One does it when it means everything. And in this case, it did. Dream did. 

Dream seems to again, come to the same conclusion. 

He wilts, shoulders sagging. He looks both much older and much younger at the same time, like this knowledge has stricken him, hurt him.

“You shouldn’t” is all he says. 

“But I do.” Hob answers in return. 

“I see that.” Dream’s voice is a whisper carried by the breeze, gentle, endless, aching. He looks torn in that moment, the judge whose scales no longer measure in any understandable manner. He casts his gaze down. 

“Just let me,” Hob says. He did not come here demanding boons, nor love, only to help Dream. “Forgive my impudent human inclinations to save what I love, and let us continue as we were. Friends. “

“Friends…” Dream repeats after him, as if in disbelief.

Dream opens his mouth to say more—to accept or refuse, Hob doesn’t know—but in that exact moment Matthew half-crashes, half-lands on Dream’s shoulder, a flutter of black feathers and barely muffled curses.

“Boss! Oh for fuck’s sake— I mean cracker’s sake— I mean what the hell— I mean you’re fine—you’re actually okay, I was sure that this time you’re like legit—” he notices Hob then, and cawing loudly he curses again “You actually did it you son of a bitch— you really did!” His wings open excitedly, brushing against Dream’s face, covering it up.

“Matthew.” 

“Uh-” Matthew folds his wings immediately. 

Hob looks at Dream then, the moment is decidedly broken but he has to know if he’d see him again, he can’t just go on not knowing, it’ll drive him insane. “Dream—” he starts, but Dream speaks over him.

“We will discuss this—” Dream’s lips tighten, eyes flicking to Matthew and then back at Hob. “At a later time.” He concludes rather curtly, seemingly deciding that addressing exactly what they will be discussing is not something he wants his Raven to be privy to.

“Right…” Hob murmurs, not speaking further of the topic either. It’s one thing to break Dream’s boundaries over life and death, another entirely over his own impatience and need to know. Dream wanting to see him again at all is already a damn good sign, and Hob will take it, gladly.

“I’ll see you later then, Dream” He uses the name even while not being sure he is still permitted to, that he did not lose the privilege. Dream tilts his head but doesn’t object, instead he nods once and disappears in a swirl of golden sand.

“Show off…” Hob murmurs into the empty air, shaking his head in disbelief. There’s a good feeling in his gut, he should probably be worried but he has a feeling that things will work out, that it all will be just fine. He can’t explain it, but he has learnt to trust his gut over the years. After all, it once led him to believe that he would never die.

It was right then, and it’ll be right now too. He and Dream will figure it out and will be better for it. Just like the other time, just like always. 

#Dreamling #Dreamling fic #The sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream #hob #buns.w #buns.all #carnelianmeluha #msg #It probably could have been rewritten but given the fact that it was meant to be only 20 minutes long writing and ended up being hours #i think this is as far as it goes :') #Something within me perished typing out in caplocks but i wished to stay true to the original prompt SO. #I only saw that you did specify the ship in a later message now lmao see I had forbidden myself from looking through the prompts #so I don't start picking and choosing what I felt more like #So I only read them as I actually did them--- and still chosen to be good xD

[magnusbae]

look, I'm a basic bitch, I see “only one bed” on a prompt list, I send asks begging for dreamling fics

xo @hardly-an-escape

Listen, I am so not cheating, despite my not being active in the dreamling for a while, I am going by oRDER. Thank you so much for the message dear, I hope you're well 🥰💖

Dreamling || 402w || lil silly au lol :)

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''There's only one bed.'' Hob shakes his head in disbelief, the apologetic staff who had informed that there’s been a mistake with their room had tactfully omitted this part from her apologies.

Dream doesn’t seem to be as perturbed by the hotel’s mix-up, nor does he look like he’s about to throw a fit the way Hob half expected him to. He shrugs, a minor movement of his shoulders, and walks in to sit down on said bed. He doesn’t look worried, instead he flips his phone open and scrolls through what Hob assumes to be his work emails.

In fact, he seems a little too fine to Hob’s taste.

“You do realize that it means we’ll have to share? I’m not sleeping on the floor nor the bathtub, if that’s the crazy idea you’ve got up that pretty head of yours.” If it was anyone else, Hob wouldn’t have to clarify. Given the fact that this is Dream, or professionally known— Morpheus, he feels the need to make absolutely sure that he understands the situation.

That he, the CEO of his family’s business, is about to share a bed with the IT guy he decided to drag along for this trip. (Why?)(He did not deem anyone worthy of an explanation.) Hob feels that perhaps the great pay was worth skipping over, if only for the icy look he gets from Dream when he lowers his phone, looking perfectly unimpressed.

“That is glaringly obvious, Robert.” He says his full name with a roll of his tongue, a thing that doesn’t fail to make Hob’s skin itch. He used to think it was anger, but lately… he’s not that sure about it.

“Great, sure. Just making sure” he wipes his hands over his pants in a quick motion, looking around the room to not think about how he’ll be sharing bed with the guy he lowkey, highey, all keys wanted to fuck for the longer half of the past year. Bloody hell and heaven. God help him.

“Clearly” Dream rolls his eyes, in that implied manner of his, looking up briefly before he is glued back to his phone. What a pretty, annoying, horrible bitch. Hob is absolutely fucked.

“I’m hitting the shower first.” he doesn’t wait for the answer, escaping Dream’s company out of sheer self preservation. This is going to be a long trip indeed. God help him indeed…

#Yours truly been awake for more hours than is proper xD #I did read through this once but it's possible the tiredness would bleed through by this point grfaethbateh #Dreamling #Dreamling fic #The sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream #hob #buns.w #buns.all #msg #hardly-an-escape

[magnusbae]

I mean, I can't NOT prompt "Emotions are a luxury I don't have time for." with Dreamling 👀

🤘 five-and-dimes

OKAY ADMITTEDLY it does fit Dreamling very well doesn't it—? I was going to give half an hour per piece and accidently digressed way too much with this one..... whoops...? Thank you for the prompt dear 🥰💖

Dreamling || 1,174w || lowkey hurt/comfort but with ~hope

▾▾▾

“Don’t you feel anythi— fuck.” Hob stops, forcing the words back down with a thick swallow. He cannot afford himself to speak in anger, no matter how badly it burns in his veins, no matter how scourged by Dream’s aloofness he is. It doesn’t matter that he should have the right for anger. Dream is simply not a being you could, or should, be angry with if you hope to keep him in your life.

Angry or not, justified or not. Hob wants him in his life, very much.

“Dream, listen.” Hob starts, running a hand over his own face, nails scratching uncomfortably over the side of his cheek. “I get it, okay.” He really doesn’t but this is not the point “but seriously, you do have feelings, I know that you have…” his voice wavers and he gestures at the space between them, unable to voice it lest Dream would flee again. “Please.” his voice strains with the burden of it all. Wanting so much, needing so much—being forbidden from even voicing it, let alone having it.

"Emotions are a luxury I don't have time for.” Dream’s voice is deep, booming, as aloof as it could possibly get. He sounds like he’s reading a ready-made script, like he’s following the lines long since prepared.

Hob recoils, physically takes a step back, wants a distance between himself and Dream’s rejection. He should have expected it, in fact, he assumed he might get worse and yet— “Bulshit.” The short silence that follows is pregnant with tension, both momentarily silenced by Hob’s boldness. Hob is as surprised by it as Dream, apparently is.

Dream comes around first, eyebrows knotting, storms cracking in the depths of his eyes. His lips thin, the corners tug down and then he opens his mouth to deliver what Hob is sure would be either a really bad reprimand or his final words to him.

He cannot have it. If only for the simple fact that he doesn’t only want Dream in his life, but factually needs him. He doesn’t know what’s life would be worth without knowing that in the end of every story there will be Dream to share it with, a confidant, a keeper of his journey.

“I think that you’re afraid—” the words rush out without a thought, he steps forward, hurrying to finish before this would blow out of proportion “—because I know that I am petrified.” The words burn true on his tongue, there’s a dull ache in his chest, his lungs feel too full and empty of air. “I am horrified that you might leave, I am terrified that you might not lo— accept this, I am…” he swallows, his throat is closing with the emotion of it all. He cannot stop, not now that he had finally started. “I get it Dream, I know that you are, that we are… different but…. “ His hand falls by his side, no amount of gesturing would express what he feels.

He runs out of words. He was so certain he had them all when this conversation started, now he can hardly even remember what brought it about. He didn’t prepare for it as well as he thought, he doesn’t know how to word it, how to phrase it in a way that would convince Dream to give this, them, a chance. Damn.

His chin drops and he stares at the ground, burning disappointment makes his hand tremor. He closes his fist.

He is no poet, no storyteller, no writer. He is no Dream to pick and choose the right words. He’s only a man. Only a man who loves a being beyond his comprehension, very, very much.

Fuck, fuck it all. Fuck. He is about to lose him, isn’t he?

The pain in his gut is a twisting thing, like a knife slicing through the guts. Shitty death, he’d know. He dares to glance up when Dream doesn’t speak, half expecting to see him gone. Instead, there’s something softer in Dream’s eyes when he meets them. For the first time, Hob’s attention is drawn to the unnatural void in those eyes, the glint of distant stats. This is…

“Am I…” his mind struggles through the spell of dizziness, his consciousness readjusting its grasp of the surroundings. The shadows are longer, the shapes are bent a little too far, the colors are not quite right.

“I am dreaming.” He understands when he finally sees the landscape for what it is, Dream, for who he is. “Oh shit.” His cheeks color red, he is aware of the incredibly uncomfortable material of the shirt he used to wear some few hundreds years ago.

“I yanked you into my dream, haven’t I.” This is, even more than before, not how he had hoped to confess. Not even close.

“Hob,” Dream’s voice bleeds to every fiber of the dream-scape, infusing it with power, making it feel tangible, more clear, in focus. “You dream very loudly.” There’s an odd note to his voice, if Hob was to attempt and pinpoint it, he’d have to admit it sounds like astonishment.

“Sorry,” he answers, abashed. “I, uh, suppose you can’t just…” he gestures at his own head with a motion that resembles wiping chalk off of a board. “Maybe…?” he adds, hopefully.

He doesn’t regrets his feelings. He would, though, like to at least be awake when Dream rejects him, It feels only proper.

The idea of simply not raising it up at all is one that had crossed his mind frequently, and yet he knows that sooner or later he’d slip again, that he wouldn’t be able to to continue pretending like this isn’t an integral part of who he is, like this isn’t something that he feels.

Sooner or later, he’d tell Dream of The Endless that he is helplessly, hopelessly, truly and deeply— in lov…

A finger again his lips distracts him from his thoughts. “Very loudly.” Dream scolds quietly, wistfully. He sighs then, the weight of it almost buckles Hob’s knees. Dream seems to ready himself, like he is expecting a great deal of suffering and is braving himself for it. He looks exhausted. Worn down. Won over.

Hob immediately dislikes that look, it speaks too much of Dream’s past. Too much of what had made Dream as closed off as he is. Too much of what hurt him so badly. Hob wants him to be…

“Very well, Hob Gadling.” Dream’s words distract Hob from his thoughts again “We shall speak of it further in the waking world, according to your wishes.” Dream looks away into the distance, his finger lingering on Hob’s lower lip, it’s cool. “I must go now, so long.”

He does not sat farewell. Hob’s mind centers around it. Between one eye blink and another, Dream is gone, golden sand scattering behind.

“What…?” Hob’s mind is already fuzzing into an incoherent haze of shapes and shadows, only distantly concerned with what just transpired.

Only vaguely he wonders if he should feel loss, or…not?

#Listen I had no idea what I was going for as I started and didn't for the entire time. BUT STILL. #My only rule for tonight's write-in is to go along with anything regardless of my personal feelings about the matter XD #So here we are~ I hope you like it!! 💖💖💖 #Dreamling #Dreamling fic #The sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream #hob #buns.w #buns.all #msg #I absolutely should stick to 200-300 words and no rewrites moving on though esgterhbrtdthrt #five-and-dimes

[magnusbae]

"Oh. OH." For Dreamling? 💗

Hello anon-dear, thank you for being the first one to check-in! And look, I did not cheat, I made sure to answer it first! 😊

Dremling || 251w of fluff

▾▾▾

''Oh. Oh.''

Hob is breathless. There’s a million stars in the sky, more than should be possible, more than he thinks could exist. His mind strain to comprehend the vastness of it all, the beautiful intricate constellations that tug at something in his core, reminds him of his childhood, of times when the stars were both closer and further away.

“Dream.” Hob croaks out, unable to look away even if to look at the Endless wonder by his side, to look into his eyes, another pair of stars. “This is…” he shakes his head, incapable of transferring the feeling into words, incapable of describing that which should not be described.

He takes Dream’s hand into his, staring up, unblinking.

“Thank you.” He says, softly, hoping that Dream might know even a fraction of his appreciation, for being here, for being shown this. For being granted the honor of seeing a part of Dream, even if only a small one, one that a human like himself would be able to withstand. “Thank you…” he echoes, mind wandering and following the myriad of colors above him, the divine halos of distant dreams being dreamed all across space and time.

Dream’s only response is a deep hum. It vibrates through the night cool air, warming Hob’s insides. If this is what happiness is like, then Hob is drunk on it, never been more so in his entire, long life. He drops back onto the softness of the grass, watching Dream’s soul morphing above them.

#Dreamling #Dreamling fic #The sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream #hob #buns.w #buns.all #Anonymous #msg

[magnusbae]

Anakin is on his knees.

This on itself should be humiliation, should be the most obvious sign of defeat, of finally at admittance of being the force Jedi, of never truly surpassing Obi-Wan in anything by brutal strength. What of wisdom, what of listening to the living force and filtering the mud and fuss, what of true servitude, what of being....good... of being just.

There is nothing of this within Anakin. He is tainted with anger and hatred and jealousy. He needs to have, he needs to posses, he needs to be loved and to love, to love so completely it'll burn away all that hs should be. He is too damaged to truly be a Jedi, and Obi-Wan?

Obi-Wan Kenobi is perfect. All what a jedi should be, all that a man should be, all that...

A gentle hand caress through his hair. His Master is unmoving otherwise, standing straight and proper and in control. He shows no emotion on his face, within his force signature. He is a fine statue of a proper jedi and yet.... he embraces Anakin's head and lets him lean in, lean his face against his Master's tan robes.

Oh, oh to be close to him. Oh to be seen by him kindly. Oh, oh to be lov.....

The word die within his heart, the word is beaten and hallowed and used up till it's barely there.

If only it could be used by the man, if only... then Anakin would... surely it will fix him, them, everything. Right?

He reaches his hands up, would be prayer, he takes a hold of his Master's belt, holding upon i for balance, for stopping him from leaving.

His Master does not leave. His Master radiates a deep, reserve sadness through the force, strong enough to sip through impeccable shields. His Master looks down at him, Anakin can feel that. He does not dare look up. He will not live to see a rejection in those blue eyes.

He will stay here, within his Master's protective shadow, where he belongs. Where he should never left.

#yo don't bnjpwo in wht state i am so wipex i cnzt werei msgs at all #and yet i wrote this #haha! #different brain #me/; ejisending total mss msgs in dms #also me; but what if i write ssok #obikin #i ugESs #obikin fic #it is for that delicious fanart from beneath ok like it #should hzve wrote more of kneelsing #wow i am needing to sleep like now asap #dkd #star wars #buns.w #buns.all

[magnusbae]

tfw u have a Complicated™️ Relationship With An Otherworldly Creature

First of all, I would like to point out that I DID NOT REALIZE WE HAD THAT DISCUSSION ON APRIL FOOL'S DAY.

All I remember is being delirious from lack of sleep and you indulging me by listening to my ravings about a Venom AU for dreamling aND THEN MAKING AN ACTUAL MEME FOR IT!!!

While I don't remember much of what we said that morning, and this meme being perfect for Canon AU also, I will focus my efforts on elaborating on this Venom AU no one had asked for but everybody will be getting!

◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘

"It's not human, but it's given me things no girlfriend ever could."

Hob Gadling is by no means a man who lacks options. He had fucked, and he had fucked a lot. He dated, he had even married once. He did all there is to be done, from casual to serious and yet... nothing comes close to this, to this bond he shares, to this otherworldly creature living within him, sustaining him, enveloping him, devouring him.

"Beloved," Hob says, feeling the instantaneous warming of his chest. Dream, (That is his name.) (Oh, what a lovely name it is.) often responds in such a manner to terms of endearment. He enjoys them more than he would ever care to admit. All the more incentive for Hob to use them as frequently as humanly possible. Which is to say, a lot.

The low frequency rumbling inside of his chest cavity lets him know that Dream is very much aware and chooses to remain silent on the matter. He is so sweet, actually the sweetest creature in the entirety of existence. It's hard to remember a time when he had thought otherwise, a time in which he was actually terrified of the creature that had decided to use his body as a free-ride.

Yes? Dream finally speaks, tired of waiting for Hob to verbalize his thoughts. His voice is a deep thunder inside of Hob's mind, closer to a loud thought than an actual audible sound. An intrusive thought he would never wish to get rid of. Hob. Strict, impatient, amused. He feels like Dream cannot decide if he's more irritated or amused by Hob's wandering thoughts. Speak.

Hob huffs out a laughter, shaking his head and opening his fist in an invitation. The empty spaces between his fingers are soon filled with claw-like ink black fingers. Dream's hand, firm and strong.

"I was just thinking," Hob closes his hand, squeezing Dream's hand in his, feeling the tightening of Dream's hand in turn. "how it's our anniversary tonight" he closes his eyes, thinking of a year ago, miserable and lost and terrified, with nothing in this world left, running into an alien that by all means was supposed to devour him long ago.

Expect for the miraculous part of them being so perfectly matched that Dream decided to preserve him instead. Tend his body, strengthen it, keep it safe. The only price being that he also gets to live in it. See humanity, learn of it, understand it. It's what he told him, however Hob suspects, knows really, that it was something far more personal.

Dream had filled spaces Hob didn't even know he had. Voids so small you don't know them but you ache them. And if Hob does even a fraction of what Dream does to him— well then, there's the reason.

Yes. Dream rambles, pleased. Anniversary, like marriage. the last word is purred so quietly it's almost like it's Hob's own thought.

"Hold your horses," Hob laughs again, cheeks warming up, he's smiling wide enough to ache "I expect to get properly proposed to, who do you think I am? I ain't cheap, you know" he feels a hand brushing his hip bone, an intimate, possessive gesture that sets a shiver down his groin.

Yes, of course. Dream's finger trace's down the 'V' lines, claw gentle but ever present. Not cheap. Proposal. Indeed. Dream is amused again, the cheeky creature is making fun of him, and that, is damn hot.

Whatever response Hob was about to give is swallowed down with a yelp when Dream takes him into his hand. Hob breathes out, mind blanking as the decidedly inhuman hand starts working on him.

Conversations about propriety can wait. After all, this is so much more interesting. Whatever else you can say about dating a formless alien who resides inside of your body, there's undeniable benefits to them literally sharing your own pleasure. Makes for a very good partner indeed.

◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘

Written in one go without editing because if I allow myself even a single more hour of thinking how it needs to be PERFECT I will die LMAO.

Brief explanation of Venom for those who didn't watch it! >> under the cut.

Generally speaking, I would imagine that Dream's initial reason was to study, understand, experience a different existence than his own. He had no regard for human life (still doesn't, not in the way a human would) he was perfectly fine with riding human bodies and living their lives until they expired.

Expect Dream had found Hob, a perfect match, a human body that accepted every single cell of him with open arms, way before Hob even realized he loved Dream, his body had already accepted him.

This can have over-complicated plot, and it could be a simply fun-little au. It can have a "fish-bowl" rescue of reported Hob breaking into the Lab where Dream was being experimented on, and it could be Hob's homeless era when on top of everything else going wrong with his life, he also gotten jumped by an alien symbiote in an alley.

It can be anything you wish to imagine, but bottom line is— imagine the intimacy, the bond, the tenderness of sharing a body with a creature that envelopes you whole, who loves you whole, who cares and wants you whole. Body and Soul and Mind, literally, figuratively, everything.

A bond so close you feel like a single being, bond so close you feel you would die if separated. Hob didn't even know he needed it. Hob thought his life was complete, even if shitty at times, he didn't feel any lackings, and yet..... when Dream came into his life, he realized it was an empty shell compared to what it is.

And Dream, who had never felt a connection, only felt rejection after rejection, and then in the case of the lab-trab, the experiments and cruelty. Being loved and accepted and wanted so fully he betrays his entire species to be with Hob.

-----

Essentially, Venom is one specimen of a symbiotic life form that finds a host and bonds with it. It's not easy to find a proper host, if the host is not right, the symbiote would slowly devour the body and eventually kill the human. In the comics canon, a human named Eddie and Venom form a bond, eventually fall in love, and share a very intimate relationship. It's a VERY half-assed explanation, but basically, the symbiote literally lives inside of the human host, and it makes for some......fun dynamics. considering it's a literal alien.

#I will NOT be rereading it so unless I made some horrid mistake it IS WHAT IT IS #it's been in my inbox longer than it should have gavregbaet but i couldn't just 'post it' with a LOL and that's it! I haD TO ELABORARE. #thanks for the MEME it's pefECT !!! #dreamling #the sandman #dreamling venom au #I GUESs? #buns.w #buns.all #cuubism #msg

[magnusbae]

#dream when Hob’s wearing a crop top — @greatsnakestintin

YOU DARE. nO siR no! he shall NOT at all be normal about it! Oh no! Robert Gadling is in fact, not normal, at all about it!!

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"Hob?" Dream asks, voice tinted with airy amusement.

"Huh?" Hob stirs, looking up at Dream's face "Sorry, must have lost myself in thought, can you say it again?" he smiles sheepishly, hoping Dream takes no offense for his lack of focus.

With what he is wearing, he better be on the forgiving side today.

A crop top. A honest to god, crop top.

All black and tight and revealing. His lean, pale stomach, his belly button a fascinating perfect thing, and the gentle groin lines right to the low hanging skinny jeans....

"Thoughts, you say?" Dream's amusement settles into a playful thing, a dangerous thing. "Or daydreams, perhaps?"

Hob tears his eyes off of Dream's stomach, again, and looks up at him. "Perhaps" he offers with a half smile, is there any point in hiding fantasies and daydreams from the lord of all that was ever imagined?

"In such a case, Hob Gadling" Dream says, standing up with a fluid motion "Shall I let you watch your fill until you may focus again?"

Hob's eyes are glued, once more, watching Dream stretch up, up, as a feline stretches prior to a nightly hunt.

"I don't think that it'll ever happen, honestly" he breathes out.

"Which part, Hob?" playful step towards him, and Dream is in his space, looking down at him with eyes that sparkle distant stars.

"I'll never watch my fill of you," Hob confesses, taking a hold of Dream's naked waist and pulling him to stand between his legs. "..and I never wish to." he leans in, leaving the softest kiss right at his lower tummy, letting the stubble of his face brush across the skin.

The soft exhale of air is his reward, sweet and warm, delightful.

#I DON'T KNOW IF YOU REMEMBERED ME BEING NORMAL ABOUT CROPTOPS OR THIS CAME TO YOU AS IT DID ONCE TO ME #BUT HERE WE ARE #HERE WE ARE #dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #greatsnakestintin #buns.w #buns.all

[magnusbae]

Dreamling - A Boon Granted - 535w

Hob finally asks for a boon. 😌

▾▾▾

"Dream?" Hob calls, getting the attention of one beautiful pale creature back to him. His eyes are pale blue, speckled with barely visible white spots, an entire galaxy reflected in the calm gaze.

"Yes Hob?" he asks, purrs really. He's always good mooded after a good shag.

"Remember that boon you've offered me?" Hob asks, noticing the way Dream's shoulder line tenses, the way he seems to breathe slower, eyes narrowing just a fraction.

"Yes." his answer is slow, calculated. His lips purse just a touch. "I remember."

He's so guarded. Hob knows why, may Roderick Burgess rot in hell, that old wanker.

"May I wash your hair?" Hob asks, his voice relaxed, hoarser after the love they just shared.

A flinch of Dream's eyebrows, the eyes narrowing a fraction more, his lips parting for a second. Oh, he is baffled. Hob can tell.

Hob lifts himself up to lean on his elbow, gazing down at Dream, beautifully contrasting the black satin sheets. (Smartest purchase, right smart of him.)

"Is that the boon you seek?" Dream speaks first when it's evident Hob is not about to elaborate.

"Yes." the answer comes with an easy smile. His eyes wrinkling with fondness.

"I am not certain you understand the concept of a boon." Dream sounds like he is contemplating whatever he should be amused or not.

"I think I do." Hob shrugs with one shoulder, reaching a hand to Dream's perpetually disheveled hair. "I ask you something..." he says the word slowly "... and you grant me my wish." he chuckles at the shadow of a pout that passes on Dream's face, no longer tense, he just looks bewildered by him. Good.

"It is to be what you'd use your boon on, Hob Gadling, washing hair that needs no washing?" Dream aims for stern, but it's clear from the way his lips are twitching upwards, the lightness of his eyes, that he is smitten by the idea.

Whatever his feelings of showers are, he enjoys the thought of it being all Hob asks for.

"You understand that there would be no second boon." Dream is almost smiling now, voice deep, smooth. "Yes?"

Well, that and perhaps a little bit of shower snog, Hob thinks idly. He's certain that this being would oblige, he is a gracious God, after all.

Despite Dream's insistence of being no God, Hob finds it hard to see much difference.

He is a God to him, would have been even if he wasn't one, if he was only a man of flash and blood. In his bed, as he is, he's God.

"Oh yes" Hob remembers to breathe a reply, leaning in to kiss willing lips, smiling lips.

Dream is humming under him, a satisfied purr of a sound. Dream's arms wrap around him and pull him on top of himself.

He likes it, Hob noticed, being pressed down like this.

Naturally, he doesn't keep any of his weight off of Dream when he lies down on him.

"Very well." Dream agrees, sounding a touch breathless already "Your boon shall be granted, Hob Gadling." his nails drag across exposed skin, following the shivers his voice set.

Hob is indeed a man of good fortune.

#I absolutely did write it entirely on mobile and edited it that way too 😂 why o why tumblr doesn't allow to select all of your text 😂 😂 #Doing a word count was quite a thing 😂 #BUT THAT ASIDE. #I thought about Dream's hair all day long and I just had to express the thought ™ #Please imagine them absolutely f—ed in bed having this lovers conversation~ #Enjoy darlings I hope you vibe the vibes 🌻💕 #dreamling fic #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #the sandman fic #The sandman #dreamhob #hobdream #dream x hob #hob x dream #Hob #Dream #buns.w #buns.all

[magnusbae]

"Quit struggling, you will only make it worse."

Obikin, pretty please /ᐠ - ⩊ -マ Ⳋ

Thank you 🥰 Now imagine if Anakin fell a few years earlier than in canon, still has his limbs and pretty hair, and is currently serving Darth Sidious while fighting on the Separatist side. Something like that 😊 1,137w - vaderwan

▾▾▾

“Quit struggling, you will only make it worse.”

Vader bares his teeth and snarls. He snarls like an animal, like he’s a Tusken Raider and it’s the only way he knows how to communicate in. The thought fills him with an even deeper rage, makes his stomach turn in fury and sickness. He is better than that, he is better than them. He is Lord Vader, not some animal to growl and bark— he does not give a kark. 

He spits at Kenobi’s feet and glares up with as much hatred as his eyes would permit without burning white blind from it. 

“Kriff yourself.” Vader grits out when all he receives for his efforts is an infuriatingly smug smirk. (it’s sad, it’s sad, it’s sad)(he ignores it).

“I think I shall pass.” Kenobi says in that sarcastic manner of his that he reserves for Darksiders only. It should not sting Vader as it does, to be spoken to as if he was one of many.

He should be more than that, he is more than that. He’d make him, he’d—

“Please do stop thinking so loudly, you are ruining an otherwise lovely force weather.” Kenobi cuts this line of thought with some sort of Bantha Poodoo that wouldn’t make sense even on the best of days, least of all when he is busy tying Vader up like he was a Life Day’s gift. 

“Force Weather? Have you lost it entirely old m— argh-” Vader sucks in a breath when he feels the durasteel wire cut deep within his skin, so tight he can feel the instant numbing, indicating that the blood had effectively stopped flowing into that limb.

Concern spikes within Vader, he already has one prosthetic, and he is not very fond of the idea of more, Obi-Wan wouldn’t…. Would he….? 

There is a moment in which he thinks that he would. Thinks that Kenobi had lost any sentiment toward his old apprentice, even the guilt that had kept him from killing him in all the previous times he had managed to get the upper hand. (Through luck)(It’s luck, nothing else.)

Losing a limb due to Kenobi’s poor tying techniques would not be technically Kenobi deciding on killing him but— “Ngh.” He hisses out, teeth scraping together as Kenobi lessens the punishing grip of the wire.

Relief  flood Vader, scorching in its intensity.

“A little too tight there.” Obi-Wan chirps, all amusement and good nature. (He sounds old.)(He sounds broken.) “Apologies, Sweet.” he says with his characteristic charm, his typical ease. (He sounds as if he’d like to retch.)(he sounds sick.)

Vader hates it. Hates. Hates. Hates. He wants the anger, the hurt, the words of disappointment and fury and passion. (Love, love, of love.) He wants Kenobi to be honest, to be direct, to be him. The him that only he knows, that only he saw. He wants Kenobi to, (his chest fills and hurts, his lungs collapse with an inhale he doesn’t manage to keep, his eyes close and he cannot, he cannot lie—) care. Care, he wants him to karkin care. Even a little, even sometimes. Care enough to hurt, care enough to scream, care enough to hurt him. 

“Up and about now.” Obi-Wan says and hauls Vader to his feet. Even in this Kenobi is careful to not hurt him unnecessarily. Do not hurt prisoners, a Jedi would say. The Codes. It’s all he sees in him. The Codes he must follow in order to fulfill his duties. No, no. No, no and no. Anakin— Vader is more, he is more, he was, he is more. 

Twisting about to face Kenobi without being stopped is hard enough, his balance off with the way his arms are bound painfully behind his back. He manages it. He’s quick enough, skilled enough— determined enough.

Without a single thought, without a moment of consideration, Vader’s eyes lock onto his target. The neck.

It’s exposed just enough, with the layers of robes covering the curve of it an the beard reaching just the top of it, there’s just enough space.

Vader strikes as he always does, without warning, without hesitation. One moment he is standing there, wide eyes alight with orange-yellow, the next his lips are closing around soft flesh, teeth sinking.

It’s all over in but moments, and yet the way Obi-Wan groans, the way his throat tenses and he swallows, the way he shudders when he pushes Vader off hard enough to make him stumble and fall back onto the ground— the way there’s blood on that neck, on Vader’s tongue— it’s all worth it.

Vader will do it again, no matter the consequences, no matter how it might look to someone who didn’t understand. 

He will make absolute sure that Kenobi never forgets, never.

Vader makes a point of licking at his lips as he smirks at Kenobi, tilting his head from side to side in a way he saw his Master do while in a good mood and flirting. On him it looks mocking and he knows it.

He takes pleasure in Kenobi having no smart retort to it, no easygoing banter to masquerade with. Vader got him, he had won. 

He is almost angry when the sound of engines breaks through, hundreds of them, all belonging to Sidious. Or the Separatists, as the Republic still foolishly believes. He will never know what words had died on Kenobi’s tongue as he looked up and then down at Vader, calculating his chances of outrunning a fleet of battle ships while carrying an unwilling Sith on his back. 

“Not in your favor, huh?” Vader asks, laughing, not even bothering to get up, instead he just flops to lie on his back. It pains his arms terribly, but he does not care. He looks at the sky as if it was a starry sky you’d gaze upon, wish upon.

“Run now, Kenobi. You’re so good at it, after all.” He does not look at him, does not want to see that back turned on him. (Again. Again. Again that.)

The silence from Kenobi’s side is a heavy one, a painful one. Then he forces out amusedly (Chokes on it.) “We’ll have to rain check our little date, my Dear.” (He does actually choke on it.) (Vader hears, he always does.)

“So long.” The man who raised him cheers, all good spirits and not a care in the world. Then there’s the sound of Obi-Wan’s light feet as he force-runs towards his own ship. Leaves him. 

Anakin closes his eyes and all the world falls down. 

There’s only the sound of shooting and the flavor of Obi-Wan’s life on his tongue. For now, it’ll do. For now, it’s enough. (It is not.)(It never is.)

#obikin #vaderwan #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars #obikin fic #vaderwan fic #prompts #prompt filled #I enjoyed writing this quite a lot‚ thank you 🥰 #Anakin #Obi wan #buns.w #buns.all #Anonymous #msg #Darth Vader

[magnusbae]

shaking at 5am, spent the past two days getting back into obikin, reading a 50k fic, drawing for 12 hours, talking to any soul that would listen— and now writing this snip of hurt/comfort— ObiKin 506w 😭😭😭

▾▾▾

Obi-Wan is used to Anakin asking for more than a Padawan should, more than a Jedi-Knight, more than a Jedi should, period.

There would be times Anakin pushes the boundaries between them, providing the most bizarre excuses for his inappropriate behaviour, excuses to which Obi-Wan has a hard time not replying with 'Really Anakin, this?' excuses Obi-Wan still accepts, accepts and pretends to understand. Excuses he needs to preserve his own integrity as a Jedi while still giving Anakin what he wants, what he needs.

Sometimes, Anakin says nothing.

Sometimes there's no clever excuses or witty jokes. Sometimes, Anakin is silent, sometimes, Anakin just takes what he wants, what he needs.

Obi-Wan always gives, never rejects Anakin when he truly needs it.

And tonight, weary from endless battles, with the blood of hundreds on his lightsaber, Anakin needs it.

So when Anakin crawls into Obi-Wan's bed, smelling of smoke and blood, unshowered and filthy- he says nothing.

Obi-Wan doesn't so much stir, allowing the boy-turned-man, wrap his strong arms around him, doesn't even flinch when Anakin squeezes so tight it's crossing the uncomfortable into the painful rather swiftly.

Obi-Wan allows it. Allows Anakin to bury his face in his nape, allows the ragged inhales, allows the seeking, desperate feeling of Anakin's force signature against his own— but when Anakin shakes with it, with the burden he carries, Obi-Wan cannot pretend to miss it.

"Oh, dear one" he says, voice quiet, saddened. He shifts, and Anakin freezes, his hold loosening immediately. Anakin couldn't have missed that he was awake, of course he didn't. He simply didn't expect Obi-Wan to acknowdlge what he was doing, didn't expect him to...

"Come here," Obi-Wan says, turning fully, facing Anakin in the darkness of the room, lifting an arm and creating a space for Anakin to get into. If he chooses to, that is.

Anakin doesn't even pretend to consider it. He launches forward like a starved thing, desperate for warmth and acceptance, needing it in ways that are being his ability to hide, to mask.

"Master—" the sound of his voice is torn, borderline inhuman. "Master..." he chokes, more quietly, more ragged.

Anakin's shoulders shake with it, and if Obi-Wan feels wetness at his neck, he would never speak of it to a living soul.

"I know" Obi-Wan whispers, wrapping his arm securely about his once-Padawan, pulling him flat against himself, his free hand at the back of his head. "I know." he repeats, soothing him, stroking at his hair with patience, with care.

"I'm here." He breathes out, eyes closed.

This war is rough on this one. Regardless of his natural talent and skill, despite his bravado and cockiness. It's rough on him.

On all of them.

"Sleep, Anakin." he murmurs once the shaking finally subsides "It's okay you sleep" he speaks on, knowing Anakin hardly pays attention to the words anymore, only the tone matters. "Sleep, dear one" he says into his hair, smelling the death in it and inhaling anyways.

Anakin sleeps, despite it all, he does.

#there's a lot of context i had to write in after the fact and so i had rewritten parts of it in the start to allow the connection---- #it's about how anakin keeps pushing his boundaries with obi-wan-- being touchy-- sleeping in his bed--- leaning on him--- #and always having some bulshit excuse why it's normal behaviour--- but sometimes-- he just doesnt even try to give an excuse-- #sometimes he just needs obi-wan #obikin #obikin fic #star wars #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #I DON'T KNOW THE TAGS -- CRIES- i am just possessed and stumbling into the neighborhood ALSO IT IS WRITTEN AT A GOD FORSAKEN HOUR SO PLZ #any weird mistakes SHOULD BE EXCUSED #buns.w #buns.all #anakin #obi wan

[magnusbae]

Obi-Wan sits at the edge of the isolate cave he had lived in for the past couple of planet rotations. He eats here, he sleeps here, yet he does not call it a home. He doubts he ever will, not ever again.

The vast stretch of desert blurs into an unappealing shade of yellow before his unseeing eyes. Ugly, he'd call it, if he cared enough. There's nothing here for him to look at, to enjoy.

He does not wish to, not ever again.

To enjoy, one must live.

Obi-Wan can hardly call what he is doing living. Binding his time, more like. Fulfilling a promise of man long gone.

There is a terrible blankness within his heart. The parts of him that used to be so full of life are now vacant, dull, half-alive.

All the best of him, all the parts Obi-Wan both loved and hated, they were all his. His brazen spirit, his assertiveness, his vigor—his fire, his passion, his anger— his joy, his smile, his laughter— it had all belonged to Anakin. Only his to borrow, for a time.

Now, it was all gone, dead and buried alongside his own soul.

There is nothing left within him but the ghosts that haunt him.

#obikin #obi wan kenobi #buns.w #buns.all #star wars #obi wan

[magnusbae]

"I can't sleep." Obikin? (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

"I'm sorry, what?" Anakin echoes, blankly.

Obi-Wan's face twists in deep discomfort and he straightens his shoulders, the furrow of his brows is one he oftens has before an especially unpleasant battle. Anakin doesn't like it directed at himself but he truly needs to his Master to confirm that he did not start hallucinating due to his own lack of sleep. Surely, his stubborn Master did not just admit to such human weakness as inability to sleep. Surely, he meant to say there's much work to be done and no one but him to do it. Right?

"If your hearing had suffered during the last mission, you truly outh to report that to the medical bay, Ahnakin." Obi-Wan sounds snappy, cranky in a way he gets only when he is sleep deprived beyond what even a Jedi can withstand. He seems to realize that too, as his cheeks color with a touch of embarrassment and he makes to turn to the door, and leave.

"No" Anakin reaches and grabs at his sleeve, hand closing around his wrist. "Stay, Master, please." his own cheeks heat up. He is not sure what to do with this more honest Master of his, the one who actually speaks clearly— he is not sure what Obi-Wan wanted to achieve when he came here, in the middle of the night. He doesn't know and he doesn't care to ruin the moment by asking. It's enough that he is here, the rest he will figure out as things go.

"I—" Anakin runs a tongue across his lips, they're dry again. "I couldn't sleep either." his hair is sleep tousled and he has pink pillow lines across his face but Obi-Wan is gracious enough to not point it out. Anakin might have slept, just not well. "I could use the company, Master" he smiles tentatively and finally, finally Obi-Wan relaxes some.

"In that case" Obi-Wan lowers his gaze, expression both conflicted and softer. "You might wish to invite me in" he glances at him with those endlessly tired blue eyes, endlessly kind, playful even while so wearied. "I rather not have to explain to the clones why we share nightly visits, Padawan." there's a smirk there, Anakin is certain.

"Mahstar!" his cheeks burning, he pulls his Master into the room and locks it with a flick of his wrist and a nudge from the force.

His cheeks are hot and his chest is light. He wonders if they could share the bed, the way his Master allowed a precious few times when he was younger. Much younger. Probably not, but who knows. Right?

#msg #Anonymous #Oh my dear it was so in my ask box for.... three months.... #I wanted to write something to match the art I am about to reblog but I got digressed as always #it's a just a little evening warmup so <3 nothing of substance here #thank you for sending the prompt #i like having those as exercise for actually starting and finishing things -laughs- #obikin #buns.w #buns.all

[magnusbae]

Morpheus is resting his hand on the inn's table. Hob's hand is there too, had dropped from his beer mug and stayed there for a long time, too busy, too fascinated with the conversation to pay mind to drinking any more.

He glances at their hands a few times, pretty damn close, almost... But no. Hob dare not touch, he is curious though, he is so damn curious.

When a pinky brushes against his own, he jolts, yelps really. Looking forward, he's met with that self satisfied quiet smirk of his stran— Morpheus, the cheeky bastard, he's literally leering at him, in his own way.

Collecting his wits and no small amount of bravery, Hob brushes his pinky too, letting it stay there, touching as he clears his throat, continuing his story as if nothing had happened.

If he had learned something over the centuries, is that his stranger did not appriciate being called out. So he doesn't. He'd be damned if he makes him bolt again. Even if it was his stranger that started it. Whatever it was. Or could be.

Hob can barely hide his smile when he feels Morpheus' pinky brush against his again, as if to remind him that it's there.

Like he needed reminding.

#I am literally fainting #I rewrote it while my eyes are closing #Crazy typos and no sense are to be excused #I had to do the pinky touching flirt I had to #dreamling #dreamling fic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #lord morpheus #hobdream #dreamhob #hob x dream #dream x hob #The sandman #The sandman fic #What am I even doing #What is editing #No editing we do not die #buns.w #buns.all

[magnusbae]

"surprise i have feelings and you just hurt them" is so good

Thank you anon-dearest! 🥰🥰🥰

As I was given free reign, and also was too unreasonable for self control—I didn't only write it way longer than it should have been (250w per prompt LOL) I also fully rewritten in afterwards :')

Obikin || 1,500w || Obi-Wan & Anakin formed a new Force Bond and Obi-Wan has to deal with an increase in Force Migraines poor man

▾▾▾

“Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them.” Anakin spits the words out angrily, punctuating each word with a sharp hand gesture.

There’s heat rolling off of him in waves, it’s a tangible thing in the Force to anyone who is even mildly attuned to it. Even small living organisms would try and stir clear from someone so prominent in the force while they’re emitting such waves of emotions. It’s unsettling to all who is untrained, unable to recognize where and why the thing they are sensing is coming from. To someone who had even just begun their training, this would be a deafening roar. As for Obi-Wan, who had happened to share a somewhat-training-but-not-bond with said individual…. It’s destructively overwhelming.

There’s a pulsing migraine building up at Obi-Wan’s temples, swiftly spreading in pulses of pain through his forehead and head, blearing his vision in a way that is usually reserved to extreme battle fatigue. Obi-Wan’s patience is not only thinned out, but fully gone by this point. The pain, and the previously failed mission do not help. Anakin’s need to prove himself had cost them an important battle and speaking of Anakin’s feelings is truly not the thing they should be concerned most with—

“I think it’s hardly a surprise Anakin” he hears himself say more than he actually thinks through the words, he hardly manages to care as much as he probably should given how violate Anakin anyways is. “You are, more than less, hammering them against the minds of anyone unfortunate enough to be within the standard hour distance from us.”

Anakin’s mouth snaps open, there’s blotchy redness across his cheeks, he seems to not find the words to describe precisely how angry Obi-Wan’s word just made him. Silencing Anakin would be a feat to be commended on a normal day, if only that was true for his Force Signature as well. A fresh wave of emotions crush against his battered shields, straining them beyond their capacity.

The moment he feels the first crack run through, is the same moment they collapse completely.

Anger, hurt, betrayal, and…

Obi-Wan’s mind is momentarily blinded by the whirlpool of emotions washing over and sucking his own mind in. There’s too much of it, all at once, all different. The indignant anger, the vulnerable hurt, the deep sense of being abandoned and uncared for, the—

Obi-Wan whimpers silently. It’s a sharp exhale more than anything, yet it’s more than enough to alert Anakin. He might have found it endearing, how quickly Anakin’s attention had shifted from himself to him, if not for the crushing wave of new emotions, even more absolute in their intensity.

Worry, anxiety, fear, anger, confusion, fear, worry—

Obi-Wan feels like he might lose his mind within them.

“Stop,” he snaps at same time as Anakin had reached out for him. The boy pulls his hand away as if hit. Obi-Wan should care for this, care for how he feels more than how he himself feels at the moment….

Hurt, confusion, anger, hurt— anxiety, fear— fear—

Anakin’s emotions spiral into a deeper, more violent vortex of darkness, a never ending cycle, one emotion swallowing the tail of its predecessor, being reborn into the next one, each time bigger, stronger.

Oh Force. Obi-Wan thinks in desperation.This is too much.

“Master?” Anakin’s Force Signature is dripping fear, there’s an urgency to it that centers Obi-Wan enough to realize, with great shame, that his own pain started bleeding through their not-quite-training-bond— or…Force Bond, if he was honest enough. Call a Bantha a Bantha.

“Master, what is wrong, why are you…?” he reaches for him again, stopping quickly and retrieving his hand away. Anakin opening and closing his fist draws Obi-Wan’s attention. He looks like he’s about to blow up, and that, Obi-Wan knows, is something that would certainly echo even louder in the Force.

“Anakin please,” he reaches out to him, despite the inherent risk of touch increasing the intensity of the Bond. He must balance the boy long enough to give himself the opportunity to gather his shields into anything resembling those of a Jedi Master. That, or leave. He is not pained enough to be that cruel. Doesn’t ever plan to be. He braces himself instead.

“Dear One,” his knuckles touch Anakin’s cheek briefly, the word of endearment is strained, forced to some degree. It’s the one that never fails to get a reaction, uncover a meeker, more gentle side of Anakin. “You are deafening me” he gives the Bond a light, barely there nudge.

Anakin jumps at that as if zapped. Eyes wide, his face shifts through a number of complex thoughts, faster than what could register or broadcast emotionally through the Bond.

Suddenly, the storm is gone. What Anakin calls shields and Obi-Wan chides as only a suggestion of such is now a durasteel tight and not leaking anywhere. The silence that follows is deafening in its own right. He has to muffle the groan of relief, not wanting to rile Anakin again

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan smiles, pained. He knows that the migraine will only worsen now that it was set off, he still can appreciate not being radiated by a small sun through it, though.

“Excellent shielding, Padawan.” He sounds sarcastic even to his ears, even though he doesn’t mean to be. Anakin doesn’t react to it, looking more troubled than angry now, a deep crease between his eyebrows.

“I’m…” Anakin bite his lower lip, still fuller than most despite him well and truly out of his teenage years. Obi-Wan should not be noticing those things. “I didn’t mean to…” his cheeks are darker now, he looks ashamed. The aftertaste of Anakin’s emotion’s linger in Obi-Wan’s mind. Guilt. The last clear emotion Obi-Wan managed to decipher. Guilt for hurting him.

“I know.” Obi-Wan says curtly, he hopes that not unkindly. “I’d appreciate it if we could discuss the matter when I’m a little less…” he gestures at himself with what he hopes is the appropriate amount of self deprecation. There’s many reasons for Anakin’s lack of control, not all are good, but he still is a knight, still is learning.

There’s not a single good excuse for his own lack of mastery of himself.

“Obi-Wan, the Bond—” Anakin starts, disregarding Obi-Wan’s request in favor of what to his mind, is no bound far more urgent. The Bond. It had taken months for Obi-Wan to notice, the budding start of something new, growing in a different place than the long severed training Bond, developing over the months spent on joint missions on this endless war.

It seems that, as Obi-Wan had suspected, Anakin had managed to miss it out entirely.

“Not now, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice sharpens, he should feel more guilt for the way Anakin’s shoulders jump up and tense.

“Fine, whatever…” Anakin mutters, looking away, glancing back and then away again. “Feel better.” He says with more hesitation than such a simple wish should warrant for. This time, Obi-Wan feels the full extent of guilt. He was too strict with him, those past few months were strained beyond what either one of them had wanted. He needs to speak with him, properly, make amends, properly.

Not now though, not while his head is splitting into two and his Force Signature is shaking after Anakin ground it so relentlessly. Knowing that Anakin didn’t mean to, doesn’t change the reality of things, his Force Signature can be downright oppressive if left unchecked. It’s not so felt when he himself is in the state for proper shields, however the repeated missions, the lack of sleep and the loss of the recent planet… were factors that are hard to ignore.

He needs to rest. He needs to meditate. Then he’ll be fine.

Obi-Wan refuses to acknowledge, even now, that what would bring the most immediate relief would be severing the Bond. Today showcased just how dangerous it is, how out of control it is, how out of Obi-Wan’s control it is. It all makes sense, any one following logic would have done it. A bond developed without their conscious choice in the matter, one that is not appreciate for Jedi to have.

The only thing that makes sense, is to end it. Yet this is the only thing that Obi-Wan will not do, is unwilling to do. He will not severe another Bond with Anakin. The consequences of the first time still too fresh in his own mind. Both for their relationship and…himself.

“Thank you, Anakin.” he says politely, hoping that he looks more collected than what he feels like. He refuses to think of this further for today. Giving Anakin the barest of hand waves, he turns and walks off.

He needs to rest. He needs to meditate. Then, he’ll be fine…

#I am dizzy with exhaustion I've been up and about for sooo long wow segthbr I am collapsing that's it. #This was both proof-read and rewritten at the very same time while I am bleary with tiredness so like you know -laughs- #obikin #obikin fic #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #anakin #obi wan #star wars #buns.w #buns.all #Anonymous #msg #Thank you everyone for sending prompts! I couldn't get to everything— this write in was already like... 8 hours long LMAO. #I hope that maybe sometime soon there will be an opportunity to sit down again and unpack the rest :) #yes i did rewrite a line when i noticed that the end result had 1498 words.... yes i have.... #the repeat of thought in the end is on purpose though had to say that lmao that one thing is not tiredness